I still see her
by Barriss-Before-It-Was-Cool
Summary: "I got enough on my mind that when she pulls me by the hair, she hasn't much to hold onto. She's keeping count on her hand. One, two, three days, that I've been sleeping on my side." Rated M for a reason.


** This is a prompt fill for the lovely Thea/youarethesentinels/unicornesque. Please go read each and every one of her fics, they are incredible.  
**

**Her prompt was: **

**"I got enough on my mind that when she pulls me by the hair, she hasn't much to hold onto. She's keeping count on her hand. One, two, three days, that I've been sleeping on my side "  
**

**I hope I did it justice. Anyway, this is what I came up with, hope you enjoy. **

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**I will still see her**

10. No, 20.

Yes, 20. 20 should be enough.

And acquiring them should be a fairly easy task.

I write down _'20 rifles' _on the _'requirements' _list. If they won't be enough, we will just have to compensate with pistols and swords.

What about ammunition?

I write down _'Talk to Feuilly about ammunition'_. I trust him to handle this matter with immaculate efficiency, as he always does.

Provisions… Will we even need them? Will the fighting last long enough for hunger and thirst to set in? Will we even have time to quench them? In any case, it is better to be prepared. A smile and a kiss on the hand should be enough to convince Madame Hucheloup to provide food and drink for the entire group for as long as the barricades stand. I will pay her back once the battle is won. I write a reminder on another piece of paper.

I notice the writing is starting to blur. I am tired. I check my pocket watch and I see it is already past 3 in the morning.

When was the last time I slept? I cannot remember; it doesn't matter; after the republic is instated I will be able to rest.

I try to get some more work done, but my mind and body begin to protest. Apparently I have no other choice but to retire.

I stifle a yawn as I shut off the gas lamp and make my way to my bedroom. I open the door, careful not to make a sound and as slowly and silently as I manage, I enter the room, closing the door behind me.

As I stand there, I observe the darkened silhouette lying on my bed, the sheets rising and descending with each deep breath. How long had Éponine been asleep? When had she gotten home, for that matter? I think I remember brushing off a pair of hands out of my hair at one point, while I was marking down locations on a map of Paris, but I cannot be sure.

I have been neglecting her, I know it. I feel guilty, but right now, I am forced to recognize that there are more pressing matters at hand.

I contemplate her sleeping form for a while, letting memories resurface in my weary mind, pushing away the plans and designs of revolution that have recently been dominating my thoughts. It feels like only moments ago I found her freezing on the streets of Saint Michel, soaked to the bone under the chilling rain. It feels like only moments ago that I took her to my flat, fed her, clothed her, and offered her a place to sleep. It feels like only moments ago that she repaid me with a kiss. Yet it feels like a lifetime ago that I fell in love with her.

It was so easy, falling in love with Éponine; her strength, her audacity, her intellect, her rough beauty – all of these traits, and many more, captured me and I know I shall never be released from her hold. Nor do I wish to.

I wonder if she still feels the same.

What woman would stay with a man who ignores her more frequently than not, who only has battle and freedom on his mind, instead of the woman he cares for? No woman should… yet here she is.

I feel the urge to wake her and remind her of my love, but I don't. I was never good at expressing my emotions, which is ironic, considering my innate talent for oratory.

I stare at her for a little while longer before I force myself to cease. I must fight these urges; I cannot have myself become distracted from what matters most right now: liberating France and its people. I chant the words '_Libert__é__, __É__galit__é, Fraternité_' in my head several times, reminding myself of my higher call.

After the revolution succeeds I will apologize to her, perhaps she will still have me. It might just be wishful thinking on my part, but I was never one to lose hope.

I change out of my clothes and move to lie down on the right side of the bed, beside my mistress. I can't help but admire her as she slumbers, her dark hair splayed on the pillow, her open mouth, her long eyelashes… God, she is so tempting; it is so difficult, keeping myself from reaching out to her.

Taking a deep breath, I will myself to look away; I turn to my side and close my eyes, trying to calm my stormy mind and my racing heart. It seems to work.

I'm close to losing consciousness when I feel the mattress shift behind me and a thin arm grabbing me by the waist.

"Enjolras?" I hear Éponine's drowsy voice in my ear.

"Go to sleep, 'Ponine" I tell her, trying to remove her hand from my person. I am always weak under her touch, and I cannot be weak right now. I need to rest; I need to gather strength for the new day of planning ahead.

She is silent for a while, and I almost think she has fallen back to sleep, but then she speaks again: "At least turn around and face me" she requests in a small voice.

I say nothing. I do not want to face her, I cannot bare it.

"Enjolras" she says, inching closer, pressing her front against my back and wrapping her arms around me.

I can feel the mounds of her breasts against my skin, and I have to close my eyes and try to ignore the increase in my heartbeat's rhythm.

"Enjolras" she whispers in my ear, and I can't help the shudder that runs through my body. She shoves one of her legs between my own and plants a small kiss on the back of my neck.

Sweat starts forming on my forehead and my trousers are starting to become increasingly uncomfortable.

Of course, she knows this. She always does. I lower my head and watch her hand that was formerly on my chest beginning to descent towards my lower abdomen and disappear under the covers.

I involuntarily twitch when I feel her palm settle on my manhood and I can practically sense her smiling behind me. I grit my teeth and try to not let myself be overcome by my needs, but then she inserts her hand inside my drawers and wraps her fingers around my length and I can feel my determination waning.

"Éponine – " I start, but then she suddenly squeezes my erection and all I can do is groan.

"Turn around" she practically orders me, and I try not to show how much that arouses me. She squeezes me once more and I can do nothing but obey.

I roll my body backwards until I end up face-to-face with her. She had removed her hand from my trousers, so my mind felt clearer now. I try to look angry, but I falter when I see the smile on her lips and the serene look in her eyes.

"Now you finally see me" she whispers as she gazes at me.

I cannot stop myself. I cannot stop my hand from reaching out to her, from grabbing her by the back of the neck, from pulling her head towards mine and I cannot stop myself from bringing her lips to my own. It feels like we haven't kissed in forever and there is a hunger within me that I haven't noticed before. I am starving. I suckle her lower lip, bite it, lick it, and she does the same to mine. It makes me delirious.

I wrap my arms against her small frame and pull her towards me. I hold her tightly like my life depends on it and my mouth devours hers like I'm possessed.

Éponine, in turn, buries her hands in my hair, an action we previously discovered was highly enjoyable for the both of us, and parts her lips, allowing my tongue entrance inside her mouth.

I taste every crevice of her cavern, the sweetness of her mouth more addicting than the tastiest of nectars. Our tongues dance and curl against each other and the soft sounds that escape her lips fill me with warmth and a need for more.

I remove my mouth from hers, and while I gasp for air, I allow myself a moment to stare at her face and admire her gorgeous features, her beautiful eyes, her swollen lips… Lord in Heaven, I need more.

I move her so that she is lying on her back. I place my body on top of hers and perch myself on my elbows so that I do not crush her frail body with my weight.

I look at her and try to express without words what she means to me. I wonder if she can understand what I am trying to convey: that she is my sun, my moon, my stars; that she is the earth beneath me and the sky above me; that she is life and death and everything in existence; and that no matter what I am currently preoccupied with, be it my studies, or liberating a country, I will always come back to her and I will always love her.

"I see you" is all I tell her.

Her smile widens and her hand touches my cheek, caressing it lightly. "I know" she replies.

I capture her lips again, this time softer, slower, lovingly, and she responds in kind.

I move my mouth over to her neck and place small kisses on her soft skin, my hands finding their way to swell of her breasts. I smile as she gasps when I cup her soft mounds, squeezing gently, kneading the silken flesh in slow, tantalizing motions. Her body wreathes underneath me and she begins rubbing her pelvis against my own. God.

I move my hands to her collar and tug the fabric of her nightdress down to her stomach, allowing her breasts to spill free out of the offending garment. I am mesmerized by the sight of her curved mounds; I brush my fingers over her hardened peaks and she shivers. I leave one hand on one breast and I bring my mouth to the other, capturing her nipple and sucking it lightly. Soft moans escape her lips as my tongue and hand play with the sensitive flesh, her fingers once again burying themselves in my curls.

I take my free hand and drag it to her thigh, grabbing her skirt and lifting it, bunching it up at her waist.

My teeth gently bite down on her aroused peak while my fingers squeeze the other, and she groans loudly, her fingers digging into my scalp. My other hand is busy removing her undergarments; I struggle a little, but I finally manage to discard them, leaving her bare underneath me, save for the bunched up nightdress around her middle.

I take the hand that was not caressing her breast and place it on the heat between her legs. I feel the wetness of her desire coat my fingers and the sensation makes me growl with need. I spread her folds with my index and middle fingers and let my thumb find the little bundle of nerves of her center. I add a little pressure and begin circling it in a slow and steady rhythm.

She cries out and her body jerks as I tease her; my tongue lapping at her right nipple, my left hand twisting the other, and the fingers of my right massaging her pulsating core almost send her over the edge. But I don't let her finish.

I feel my own needs become too overwhelming to contain any longer. I remove my hands from her body and I swiftly undo my trousers and push them to my knees.

I take this opportunity to take a glance at Éponine's face. She is flushed with arousal, a sheen of sweat covers her skin and she is staring at me with hooded eyes, filled with want. I crash my mouth onto hers once more, kissing her passionately as I position my aching erection against her opening.

We both hiss as my tip enters her. I go in slowly, allowing her to become accustomed to my girth, and allowing myself to enjoy the feeling of her warm walls enveloping me. The deeper I ease myself into her, the more staggering the feeling is, and I stifle a growl as I finally fill her to the brim. I have to take a short moment to collect myself or I risk finishing before I even start.

A few deep breaths later and I begin rocking my hips against hers. We move together simultaneously; I push my length in and out of her tight depths slowly, while her pelvis rises to meet my thrusts with a frenzied need. She moans and I groan with every agonizing motion, or bodies bucking, arching and colliding in perfect rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against each other, the creak of the bed, Éponine mewling with pleasure in my ear, not even the grandest of symphonies can compare to this sweet, natural music.

I begin to increase my tempo. I impale her fully with my length, retract it, and then slam myself back inside of her with a vengeance. I take my right hand and place it on her thigh, lifting her leg upwards to better accommodate myself, while I place my other on her left breast, giving it a light squeeze. I pound into her with fervor, almost despair, and she screams in bliss with each thrust. I can feel she is close, her walls tighten around me and her body quakes as I ram myself inside of her; it almost pushes me over the edge, but I resist. She screams my name and her back arches upwards, her face contorting in ecstasy.

I don't stop. I keep thrusting my shaft inside of her warm depths relentlessly, my own needs so overwhelming it feels like I will die if I do not satisfy them soon. I grabbed her free leg with my left hand and lifted it upwards, so it was at the same level as the right, allowing myself better access to her center. I sheathe my full length inside of her in one swift motion and I cannot help the sounds that are escaping my mouth.

Our breaths are coming in harsh and uneven, exhaustion beginning to catch up to both of us. Éponine releases her legs from my grasp and encircles them around my waist, pushing me forward, forcing myself deeper inside of her. I almost topple over on top of her, but I manage to steady myself by propping my hands on either side of her head.

Her heels are digging into my behind and her hands once again find the blond curls on my head.

I understand what she wants, so I buck my hips and begin pounding into her, fast, hard and rough. I feel my shaft reach the very end of her cavern, and we both scream with each agonizing thrust. I can feel myself losing control and I can tell she is once again ready as well.

I slam into her with desperation, eager to end our torturous dance, and she concurs by lifting her hips to meet mine, adding even more friction between us.

She cries out first and her body shudders uncontrollably as that strong, powerful sensation claims her again.

Seeing Éponine writhe in ecstasy below me is everything I need for my own orgasm to engulf my body and I groan in blissful satisfaction as I flood myself inside of her.

We stare at each other for a while, ragged gasps coming out of our throats and beads of sweat falling from our foreheads, but the smiles on our faces and the love in our eyes eclipse the exhaustion of our bodies.

I carefully unsheathe myself from within her and manage to plant a lazy kiss on her forehead before rolling over to the side and dropping onto the mattress. I turn sideways so that I am facing her, and she does the same.

I brush a few strands of hair from her face and I let my fingers linger on her soft cheek. There are so many things I wish to tell her, so many things I want to discuss, but as always, when it comes to my emotions, I am at a loss for words.

"'Ponine" I say slowly, trying to form the sentences in my head, "I want you to know that no matter – "

I am not able to finish my sentence, as she silences me by pressing the tips of her fingers to my lips.

"I know, Enjolras" Éponine says. "We'll talk about it once your revolution succeeds" she adds with a smile.

I love her.

If I ever had any doubts before, they were all shattered now.

I love her.

I take her hand in my own and kiss her fingertips. "Thank you" is all I need to say.

I pull her close to me, and for the first time in God knows how long, we fall asleep in each other's embrace.

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**And there you have it. Thanks for reading, and if you have the time, reviews are very much appreciated.**


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